Urban Legend Halloween Spectacular
by TheRestIsRustAndStardust
Summary: Phineas and Ferb, as well as all of Danville and a few OC's, do their own versions of popular horror myths.
1. The Licked Hand

**_[A/N: Arg! I'm sorry that I haven't been here in FOREVER. I was out exploring other fandoms. I feel bad for being such a lazy bum and not doing anything. Please accept this as an apology. Enjoy! -Kaylee]_**

Dudes and dudettes, I am SO. SORRY. For being gone so long! Anywho, since it's October, the month of Halloween and Samhain, as well as All Hollow's Day and the beginning of the Harvest Festivals of yore, I thought I would commemorate such a special event by doing a Phineas and Ferb fanfic of possibly epic proportions! (It depends on how you look at it, you know?)

Without further adieu, I give you now Phineas, Ferb's and all of the gang's spins on classic spooky urban legends. Just remember, folks; check your backseat. Trace your phone calls. Never let a hitchhiker into your car, and always, ALWAYS keep the light on.

**Title:**** The Licked Hand**

**Rating:**** PG-13**

**Characters:**** Candace, Linda**

**Summary:**** Humans can lick, too.**

Candace Flynn was sixteen years old when her parents first decided that she could stay home completely by herself.

"We'll see you later, sweetie!", her mother Linda declared, hugging Candace and briefing her before she left. "The number for our hotel is on the fridge, there's money for a pizza and the boys are staying over at Baljeet's house. Don't open the door for anybody, keep the doors locked and don't answer the phone if you don't recognize the number!"

Candace waved her hand as if pushing aside her mom's worries. "Mom, I'll be fine! I put the number on my cell contacts and if the boys aren't here, I won't have any busting to do. You and dad can go to your conference or whatever." The red-haired teen patted the top of her skirt, summoning over a rust-colored dachshund puppy. "Besides," she cooed, stroking the fur of the little animal, "I have Jeremy Junior to protect me!"

Jeremy Junior was Candace's beloved new puppy, which her parents had gotten her after months of arguing that it was unfair for the boys to have a platypus and she not have a pet at all.

Linda laughed. "You have a point, I guess. I love you, and we'll be back tomorrow night!" With that, she left the girl and the dog alone.

That night, Candace was snuggled up with JJ, watching a movie, when the Danville news came on with an emergency warning. "Attention, citizens of Danville and of the greater Tri-state area! We are urging you to lock your doors and windows and to keep your children and animals inside for the rest of the night!"

Candace stiffened as she listened on. "Earlier this afternoon, a patient from Danville State Hospital for the criminally insane escaped and is still at large. The suspect is considered armed and incredibly dangerous. PLEASE, lock your doors and windows and keep your pets and children inside!"

The movie returned and Candace shuddered violently. "Perry and the boys are at the Rai's house. They should be fine!" Besides, she had locked the doors and the windows mostly remained locked...except for the one that had rusted to the point where it wouldn't turn. But as the movie came back on, settling her nerves, she forgot it.

The night passed quickly for Candace and Jeremy Junior as the girl fed him, played with him, and got ready for bedtime. JJ slept at the side of her bed on the floor at night, pointing his pink little tongue up to lick her hand and this night was no different. The lap of his tongue on her hand eventually lulled her into a comfortable sleep.

_Drip...drip...drip..._

The noise coming from the bathroom woke Candace with an eery, unsettled feeling; the faucet had been turned off. It didn't usually drip. Something didn't sit right with her and she wanted to go see, but oh, she was so scared! She sat there, paralyzed with horror, as JJ continued to loll his tongue up and down her hand, offering some comfort.

_Drip...drip...drip..._

The noise was awful to Candace, who lay there with her precious puppy under the bed until finally the sun began to burst through the curtain. As the final rays made their way into her room, Candace found her courage and sprang up from her bed, rushing into the bathroom to see what was making that awful drip.

When she got inside, Candace Flynn screamed.

Hanging from the shower curtain rack, by the neck, was Jeremy Junior, her beloved dachshund puppy, blood falling from a cut in his neck in a steady _drip...drip...drip..._

And written in her puppy's blood in the bathroom mirror were the words "People can lick too, Candace."


	2. Bloody Mary

_**[A/N: Chapter 2, hurray! This chapter goes out to my marvelous Twitter follower, ItsEvilGirl, who recommended the legend I'm about to use. If you have a Twitter, you should follow her. She's an amazing RP-er as well as a terrific friend. Enjoy! -Kaylee]**_

**Title: Bloody Mary**

**Rating: PG**

**Characters: Adyson, Gretchen and Isabella**

**Summary: Some dares you just shouldn't take...**

It was around ten PM on a dark night at the Fireside Girls clubhouse in Danville. The troop overnight had been scheduled for the day, but the storm had kept all but a few of the girls, and their den mother, Eliza M. Fireside, away from the little cabin where they held their meetings.

"What's the matter, Izzy, are ya chicken?" Adyson Sweetwater put her hands on her hips, smirking and glaring tauntingly at her troop leader, Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, more commonly known as Isabella.

Isabella glared back, but she was not smiling. "As a troop leader, I will NOT stand for insubordination! And I am NOT a chicken, I'm just not going to do something stupid!"

"Excuses, excuses!", Adyson shot back. "Some brave troop leader YOU are! Just admit it, Isabella, you're afraid of Bloody Mary!"

Gretchen, who had been standing there and watching the two argue, piped in as she adjusted her hat. "Excuse me, but who's Bloody Mary?"

Isabella and Adyson stopped arguing long enough to stare at Gretchen in shock. "You mean you don't know the legend of Bloody Mary?"

Gretchen shook her head. "I've studied mythology, but only as recent as the 12th century AD. I'm not interested in what you would call, "urban legends"."

Adyson frowned. "I can't believe you've never heard of it!" She grinned coyly. "Do you wanna hear the story?"

Gretchen nodded. "If you would, I'd like to, then maybe I can help you with this silly fight of yours."

"Good!" Adyson switched on her flashlight and held the beam to her face. "A long time ago, about a hundred years or so, there was a woman who lived right here in Danville. Her name was Mary Agnes. You see, nobody in Danville really liked Mary; she was as mean as a braided snake and she was even uglier than she was mean." Adyson's eyes lit maliciously. "Some people even thought she was a witch. Anyway, Mary Agnes angered the wrong people one day and they decided they'd had enough of her bad temper and ugly face...so they decided to put and end to it, once and for all."

Gretchen looked scared as Adyson continued, "They chased her into the woods with pitchforks and cut her face up so bad that she died. And that's why they call her Bloody Mary."

Gretchen's face has turned pale, but she spoke anyway. "Well, that was certainly..." She gulped. "What does that have to do with you and Isabella, anyway?"

"I was getting to that!", Adyson countered. "It is said that you can summon "Bloody" Mary Agnes' ghost by going into a bathroom, turning off the light and saying "I believe in Bloody Mary" thirteen times in the mirror." She glanced over at Isabella. "And Little Miss Fearless Troop Leader here refuses to do it because she's scared!"

"I am not scared!", Isabella snapped. "I just don't see the point of doing something stupid."

Gretchen simply nodded, walking over to Isabella and lowering her voice. "Izzy, just do it, please? Adyson's just trying to get your goat and if you prove that there's nothing in the mirror, she'll stop going on about it."

Isabella sighed; Gretchen was absolutely right. Adyson liked to try and be tough around them to show off, and if she played along, the girl would stop. "Fine...Adyson, I'll do it, but just to prove that there's no such thing as Bloody Mary."

Adyson smiled. "Great! Just let me get the candles. We have to wait awhile, though, because it only works at midnight."

The other two girls just nodded. Two hours later, Isabella, Gretchen and Adyson were gathered in the tiny bathroom of the cabin, surrounded by candles and standing facing the mirror. Gretchen nudged Isabella a little. "Go on, do it. You can get it over with soon."

Isabella ignored Adyson's condescending stares as she cleared her throat and began. "I believe in Bloody Mary...I believe in Bloody Mary...I believe in Bloody Mary..."

It got a little colder in the bathroom. Isabella continued, now around the eighth cycle of the chant. "I believe in Bloody Mary...I believe in Bloody Mary..."

All of a sudden, one by one, the candles sputtered out, leaving them in pitch darkness. The three girls screamed, but Adyson quavered, "Finish it, Isabella! Do it!"

"I believe in Bloody Mary, I believe in Bloody Mary, I believe in Bloody Mary!"

The three of them screamed, shuffling around as a bolt of lightning struck outside, illuminating the bathroom. One by one, they tumbled out the door and rushed to the safety of the fire in the hearth, shuddering. "I knew you were scared!", exclaimed Adyson.

Isabella shot back, "I was not! I did your stupid dare, didn't I? And I didn't chicken out, did I Gretchen?"

Silence followed the question. "Gretchen?..." Adyson's voice was tight with apprehension. Another bolt of lightning struck outside. Isabella grabbed her flashlight, Adyson following the gesture, as both of them wandered back into the bathroom.

When Adyson and Isabella opened the door, they gaped in shock at what they saw;

There on the floor lay Gretchen, pale as a ghost, shivering and barely breathing. The mirror was broken and her neck was red with two bloody handprints. When she spoke, the only words that she wheezed out were, "I _do_ believe...in Bloody Mary..."

This time, nobody thought it was funny.


	3. Lavender

_**[A/N: This is a legend a lot of you guys may know. It's more sad than it is scary, but I still thought it appropriate for a Halloween story, and it IS a good Urban Legend. Enjoy! -Kaylee]**_

**Title:**** Lavender**

**Characters:**** Danny, Bobbi, Sherman, OC**

**Rating:**** G Plus**

**Summary:**** Pretty girls are never who they claim to be.**

The whole odd mess started on a cold, foggy Saturday night in the middle of October. Danny, Bobbi Fabulous and Sherman, aka Swampy, were driving home from a gig, talking, laughing and generally unwinding.

"I dunno, man, I kept getting weird looks." Sherman put his hands in his pocket, chilling in the back seat with Danny while Bobbi drove.

Danny laughed. "That's because you were wearing a flasher jacket, dude!"

He frowned, narrowing his eyes and shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his dark brown trench coat. "It is NOT a flasher jacket, it's a trench coat! And just because you two were freezing to death doesn't mean I have to!"

"Sure, sure, just don't blame ME if we get pulled over and they haul you down to the station."

"Dude, just shut up!"

Bobbi, who had been driving and stoically listening to them fight, stopped the car. "Will you two keep it down? One, you're getting on my nerves and stress wreaks havoc on my skin! And two, you guys know that I hate driving at night! You are making this ten times worse for me than it should be!"

The two other men mumbled in agreement. Bobbi sighed. "Good. Now let's just keep going and get this over with as soon as possible."

Before they could go any further, Sherman stared out the window, seemingly interested in something under a street light. "Dude, stop the car!"

Bobbi did, becoming even more annoyed. "What is it now?"

"There's a girl standing under that street light, trying to hitch a ride." He shook his head a little bit. "I think we should help her. It's cold out here, and not very safe."

"Dear God, Sherman, are you dumb enough to actually want me to pick up a hitchhiker?" His friend was now fully exasperated.

Before another fight could ensue, Danny cut in. "Bobbi, it's just one girl, one time. Besides, there are three of us in here."

"I'm not getting out of this one, am I?"

"No. You're going to be a Good Samaritan whether you want to be or not."

Bobbi groaned, pulling over. "Fine! But if she kills us or something, my ghost is SO going to kick your ghost's butt!"

Danny didn't say anything as they came to a halt by the lone female figure. Sherman, who was closest to her side, rolled down the window. Getting a closer look at her, he realized that she was very pretty; her face was a narrow oval shape with long orange hair that fell straight down her back. Her eyes were large and a very light green, almost the color of limeade. Her skin, although disturbingly pale, was as without marring as porcelain. The most striking thing about her was the short, shiny lavender dress that she was wearing, which would stand out even if she was in a crowd of people. "Hey!", he called out, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. "You need a ride, miss?"

The woman jumped slightly. "Sure! Thank you." She clutched her purse and climbed a bit awkwardly into the vehicle.

"So where are you headed?"

She answered, "4343 Danville Pike." She bit her lip, eyes revealing discomfort. "My car broke down about a half mile down the rode, you see, I mean I don't normally hitchhike, and I'm sorry if I'm bugging you." It was obvious that she was frightened; a lone woman in a car with three strangers, all male, was certainly an understandable thing to fear.

Sherman smiled at her sympathetically, understanding her worry. "Not a problem. We were going that way anyway, and now at least you're not by yourself."

Her face lit up with a sweet grin. "It would seem that I'm not. I'm with three very kind gentlemen who would help a dimwitted girl find her way home." She tossed her hair to one side. "I have a name, by the way. I'm Lavender. Lavender Porter." Lavender giggled. "Friends call me Lea."

The first ten minutes of the half-hour drive, they spent talking, finding out that they had a lot in common, both interested in the works of Nabokov and lending themselves to philosophical ramblings about Lolita and Mary.

On the fifteenth minute, their hands connected lending him the disturbing realization that her skin was cold as death. Blushing, he took off his coat and offered it to her. "Here. Bobbi probably wouldn't like it if you froze to death in his car."

Lavender smiled. "Thank you." In her eyes were a trace of some indiscernible sadness.

Finally came the time when she had to go home. "Bye Lea!" Danny, Sherman and Bobbi waved to her, watching as she drifted indoors, offering a pallid wave in return.

Sherman scooted back over to the edge. "She was nice."

"You were into her, weren't you?", Danny asked, grinning at him wryly.

"I was not!", he shot back.

The brunette just snickered. "You must have liked her. You gave her your flasher jacket and forgot about it."

He facepalmed. "Damn!" The drummer let out a defeated sigh. "It's almost midnight. I'll go get it tomorrow."

"You're just looking for an excuse to talk to her again."

"Okay, that's it!"

The ensuing fight lasted until Bobbi slammed on the brakes. "You two, get out before I have to strangle you both!"

The next day, Sherman got up a little earlier than usual and made his way to 4343 Danville Pike, the address that Lavender had given him, knocking on the splintery door. "Yeah?" An annoyed masculine voice came from inside. When the door opened, there stood a tired-looking man of about middle age. Behind him stood a teenage girl with red hair similar to Lea's, and the unfortunate realization dawned on him; she was married.

"I'm sorry to bug you, but I came here to see Lavender Porter. I lent her my coat yesterday, and-"

The man cut him off by violently grabbing Sherman by the collar, face screwed up angrily as he hissed, "What the hell is wrong with you? Is this some kind of a joke?"

"I-It's not a joke, I swear!". He stuttered. This man must be really protective of his wife!

'Get the hell out of my house!", he screamed, slamming the door behind him.

For a moment, Sherman just stood there, flabbergasted. Did that just happen? Why did that man object to him getting his coat back from Lavender? The door opened again, but instead of an angry old codger, the teenage girl that looked like Lea stepped out. "I'm sorry about my dad. Are you okay?"

He nodded. "What did I say?"

The teen frowned, shoving her hands into her jeans pocket. "Dad doesn't like anybody talking about Aunt Lea. You're not the first one who's had this happen."

Sherman cocked his head in confusion. "She told me yesterday that she didn't usually hitchhike."

"You don't understand, mister. My aunt Lea couldn't have seen you yesterday, or any day, unless you knew her back in the day." The bomb finally dropped when she announced, "She's been dead for ten years. Her car broke down on the side of the road and she hitchhiked a ride from someone. The car got hit by a drunk driver and she and the guy she was with died."

Sherman's eyes widened; no, this had to be a joke! The girl's voice seemed hollow and far-away as she said, "I'm sorry. She's buried in Danville Memorial Cemetery if you want to see her."

His feet were on automatic as he shuffled haplessly to the cemetery, desperate to prove that this whole thing was some sick, disgusting joke. The girl he was with yesterday could NOT have been dead, it was impossible! Of course, she _was_ cold...but she had been standing on that curb for goodness knows how long!

He entered the wrought-iron gate to the graveyard eyes scanning the surface. After awhile, he saw something that made his face go white and blood turn to ice.

The small, pink-marble stone read:

Lavender Anne Porter

Loved by All

1977-1994

And there lay a dark brown trench coat folded neatly on her grave.


End file.
